


Stubborn Times Two

by michelleSorta



Category: Adventure Time
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Gen, Homies, Male-Female Friendship, Subtext
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-02
Updated: 2013-02-02
Packaged: 2017-11-27 21:25:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/666656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/michelleSorta/pseuds/michelleSorta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During times of sickness, blanket forts were a necessity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stubborn Times Two

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: AT doesn't belong to me, I'm just emulating the Ice King and writing ficcage.

"Despite how completely hilarious this situation is, I have to ask: what are you doing exactly, Fionna?"

"Marshall Lee!" Fionna grins. She makes a movement to wave at him, aborting the gesture at the last second when she remembers she's hanging by a thinning vine tied to a stone outcropping of the mountain that she's attempting to scale. "I have to get that flower right there!"

She motions upward with her head toward a bright purple flower, precariously growing in a crevice on one of the highest, most barren and rugged peaks in all the Land of Ooo.

"Oh," Marshall remarks, hands in his pockets as he floats casually alongside her. His gaze turns from Fionna to the flower and then back toward her, "For what, might I ask?"

"For Cake," replies Fionna as she grunts, pulling herself up along the vine. He dubiously eyes the vine and then at Fionna. He floats a little closer, "Uh huh."

"Yeah, she's totally sick. I heard from Prince Gumball that if I grind up the flower and sneak it into Cake's tea, she'll be cured."

"And you couldn't just give her cold medicine?" Marshall Lee asks warily, still floating alongside her as she lifts herself inch by inch.

"Of course not," exclaims Fionna as she pulls herself over the ledge with a huff. She takes a deep breath before jumping and simultaneously fist pumping into the sky. Marshall watches her with something akin to amusement – the corners of his lips twitching upward into a slight smile.

She's giggling as she turns around to look back at Marshall, "My adventurer soul would be shamefaced."

"Mortals and their talk about souls," scoffs Marshall. "Being soulless is so much easier, morally and spiritually."

"I like my soul, thank you very much." Fionna replies as she grasps a nearby jutting rock and pulls herself upward. Just a few more yards.

"What are you doing here by the way? I thought," she says through her teeth, trying to keep her breathing steady. The air has already started to noticeably thin. "You were having a bro-day with Prince Bubblegum."

"Nah," he carefully nudges her closer to another outcropped rock, "The lame had to leave for an emergency conference with the Toffee Tribe. A dispute with this year's chocolate tree harvest and whatever."

"I'm sorry he had to bail," pulling herself upright until she is on the thin ledge, Fionna sits down, breathing heavily. She's a little more tired than she thought she would be. She has to remember she's doing this for Cake. "Oh my gosh, that looked so much closer from below."

Marshall Lee rolls his eyes, "This is getting weak. I'll be right back."

"No!" Fionna grabs his pant leg, clinging to it before Marshall has the chance to float away and retrieve the stubborn little flower. "I can get it myself!"

"You do realize I can float there, come back in five minutes, save you time and the possibility of falling hundreds of thousands of feet to your untimely mortal death, and get a slice of pizza?"

"I want to do this myself," Fionna retorts, "It would be cheating to ask a bystander."

"You're a weird chick, but whatever." Marshall floats back to her side. "Get at it Ms. Adventurer."

"I will!" Fionna dusts off her shorts and then plants one hand on her hip while pointing her finger skyward. "Watch me, no plant will best the Adventurer Fionna!"

"Uh huh." Marshall nods, "Watching in morbid curiosity, as we speak.

Fionna grins as she creeps along the ledge of the mountain, ignored the loose sediment falling on her head and the random skull to her right, staring at her when she's merely inches away from the flower.

Fionna's grin widens as her fingers graze the stalk. She presses herself closer to the side of the mountain – standing on her toes she gasps –

And plucks it.

"I did iiiiiiiit-!"

In that moment, the ledge beneath her crumbles. By pulling the plant free, she disrupted its lengthy root system and caused the loose soil she was standing on to fall apart.

Suddenly, the gray, darkening sky was beneath her and the ground above her and Fionna helplessly closed her eyes. Cake would have caugh –

"You idiot!"

She stops.

A pair of strong arms wraps around Fionna, stopping her decent. Her fingers instinctively grasped the softness of his plaid shirt and she allows the rapid beat of her heart to be calmed with the sudden scent of strawberries.

"I may be a bystander," grunts Marshall Lee as he holds her close. In his mouth was the flower's stalk, the petals tickling his nose. The plant was a little worse for wear but overall safe. Just like Fionna was as she clung to him. "But I'm your friend first."

"I could've taken care of myself just fine," she replies weakly. Her grasp around his shoulders doesn't lessen as he floats them downward to the safety of the ground.

Marshall Lee doesn't free her when their (her) feet touch the ground. He can feel the weakness in her knees. Instead, he spits out the flower, catching it with the hand wrapped around Fionna's shoulders before he bends down and loops his arm underneath the curve of her knees and hefts her into his arms until he's carrying her easily in his arms.

"W-what are you doing?" Fionna gasps, pulling away to no avail. For a man that has ridiculously skinny arms, his grip on her is like iron. "Let me go, Marshall Lee! I have to get this plant to Cake!"

"After that fiasco, you're in no shape of going home by yourself." He eyes her clothing and ominous clouds heading toward their direction speculatively. He waggles the flower at her, merely inches from her face. "And it's going to rain. There's no point in two adventurers being sick."

Fionna automatically accepts it, her fingers gently tracing the delicate purple petals. "You don't need to carry me like this. At the very least, take to me see Cake."

Marshall is already floating upward toward the direction of his house, "It's a cold. It's been infecting everyone in Ooo for the past few days. She'll survive a few more hours while we get you cleaned up."

With that said, the clouds decided to part. One big, fat water drop fell on her head.

One turned into two.

And three.

And another, and another until she's damp and shivering in his arms.

"Just drop me off at my tree house!"

"Technically, my tree house." Marshall Lee frowns, matching Fionna's glare with his own, "And my house is closer."

"You're not going to let me go either way, are you?" Fionna glowered. "Even if I fight you?"

"Now you're getting it," answers Marshall. A characteristic Marshall Lee-like grin forms on his face, "And if you did try to fight me, I would drop you."

Fionna squeaks, her eyes darting at the ground in the sudden realize she's in the air again – the earth below her small – like dots.

"You're fighting dirty," she murmurs into the collar of his shirt, her grip relentless on his shirt.

"I'm the Vampire King, babe. He chuckles, "It's part of the job description."

…

Marshall Lee was not a hoarder.

He honestly wasn't.

Except, he really wishes he were.

Rummaging around in his closet, drawers, and clothes bin, he realizes he doesn't have any clothes that could possibly be female-related.

He thinks wryly that he should have kept Ashley's clothing, if not to burn an article of her clothing every once in a while, but for situations like this.

Although situations rarely like this happen, nor does he want to.

At least, he thinks wryly, with anyone else but Fionna.

She's…different.

He grabs a handful of clothes, hoping something in the stack would meet her approval and places it right outside of the door for her to grab once finished in the bathroom. He's glad he took the extra time to refit it with hot water.

He floats away, frowning as he aimlessly meanders around his house (the little flower is in a vase next to the couch – safe and sound) while Fionna finishes her shower.

They bickered like normal during the flight back to his house, she even punched him on the shoulder (a friendly tap, she said) once they reached his home, but he needs to keep her here.

Thunder cracks in the air as the rain strengthens.

Humans are so very fragile.

"Thanks for letting me borrow your clothes, they're way bombastic," says Fionna as she steps out of the bathroom.

He blinks, doing a quick double take as she walks closer. Her bunny hat is carefully folded on top of her clothes, allowing her normally bound golden hair to fall loose around her shoulders. He gulps. She's wearing one of his shirts (one of his favorites) – the navy blue one, with the brown and red stripes. Although it fits him well, it is still baggy on her, falling off of one shoulder and nearly reaching mid-thigh.

A foreign pang, something that he thought he lost a millennia ago, thumps in his chest.

"I appreciate your help and all," Fionna tugs on the sleeve of his shirt, breaking his reverie to turn back to the attention of the origin thoughts. "But I'd like to go back home and bring Cake this flower."

His gaze narrows, it may be from her recent shower, but the warmth emanating from her is higher than her normal one.

He breathes in more deeply – her scent is off.

"You're being weird Marshall. Weirder than normal anyway," she says as he places a cool palm on her forehead. She does not jerk from his undead touch. However, it does not go unnoticed when her shoulders slump, her body leaning closer to him due to his coolness against her fevered boy.

"You're sick," he says dryly, "Or at the very least, in the process of become sick."

"Am not," she pouts but doesn't do much more than attempt to struggle as he carries her on his shoulder over to the couch. She lands on the cushion with a plop and looks startled when she realizes it is a new couch. It's more comfortable – he replaced it after her and Cake's guilt trip about last time.

"Be right back." Before she has a chance to escape from her inadvertent kidnapping, Marshall Lee has already returned to the living room with heavy blankets in tow. He dumps them on her with a surefire thud. She squeals, a mixture of laughing and indignation as she squirms and wiggles, attempting to free herself of her cocoon prison.

"Marshall," she giggles as her head pops up from the top of the blanket prison, "I'm going to be fine. It's Cake that I'm worried about."

She ducks back underneath her blankets.

He scoffs, "She's probably snoring away, talking about catnip right about now."

He hears scuffling but no response. The only reason that he knows she is still alive is the slight tremble of the blankets.

"Fionna…?"

He is not concerned.

Although, he does float closer.

"Blanket fort!"

"What the - !"

She's giggling beneath her raised blankets, held up by the back end of the couch and a broom she found underneath the sofa. Fionna was always surprisingly crafty.

"It's a blanket fort, silly."

He eyes the makeshift location warily, "The structural integrity of your 'fort' has a lot to be desired."

She pouts, "Cake would have joined me."

Sigh.

"Adventurers and their need for precarious situations," he mutters as he ducks underneath the covers. He floats absently within it – there's barely enough room for two people to sit comfortably.

"Cake…she does snore," Fionna finally answer once he's nearer. She's in the far corner of the couch, wrapped in a large brown and auburn blanket. The contrast of her fair face and blonde hair the only visible part of her in contrast to the darkness of her surroundings as she curls up within herself. Her legs are pulled up to her chest.

She looks so very small.

Marshall Lee can still smell the lingering scent of sickness on her.

Carefully maneuvering further into the small makeshift fort, Marshall lands next to her and kicks his feet up on the coffee table. The entrance is large enough to still comfortably see the TV. A hand on the remote, he turns to look at her, "What do you want to watch?"

"You don't have to – " Fionna stops.

He's eyeing at her, his head cocked to the side with a comment regarding her obliviousness already on the tip of his tongue.

Instead, she scoots closer and tucks herself against his side, her head buried against his cool shoulder. She folds the blanket around them, despite knowing he doesn't need it.

"Attack of the Aneurysms and Avocado-Colored Kitchen Supplies is on right now," she replies.

She smiles into the blanket when an arm comes around her, casually holding her close, keeping her further warm or cool – she doesn't know but doesn't really have it in her heart to care as she sighs.

"After it stops raining, I'm going right home after the movie," she says in finality.

"I'll go with you," he replies.

"You always have to have the last word, don't you?" Fionna murmurs, nudging him in the ribs with her elbow.

Marshall Lee gently tugs on a strand of her hair, "Obviously."


End file.
